A Flag for Dad

An old sailor made a last wish. His son was determined to see that it came true

- Joseph C. Duckworth

FOURTH OF JULY, 1995, should have been a happy day for me. It was not only our nation's birthday, it was mine as well. I turned 45 that day. But it was also the day my father died.

In the week prior to his death, my wife, Pat, and I visited my parents. While Mom and Pat chatted, Dad and I did the same. At 77, he wasn't well, suffering from diabetes and congestive heart failure.

After some small talk, Dad looked into my eyes and said, "Joe, my road is short. I'll be leaving here soon."

The words hurt, but I tried not to show it. Then he came to the point, as was his way: He wanted his casket draped with an American flag. That, right, he said, is due every American service member. And, he wanted his burial flag to be one that had flown over an aircraft carrier.

Dad was a quiet, unassuming man who had raised his six children on a factory worker's salary. But among his proudest memories was serving in the South Pacific during World War II as an electrician's mate aboard the aircraft carrier USS Bunker Hill, CV-17.

Dad never spoke about the battles he'd seen. He preferred to talk about the camaraderie and the friends he made. And the pranks they pulled on one another. Dad always liked a good prank.

I told him I'd see to it. Dad smiled and changed the subject.

It was an easy promise to make, but not so easy to fulfill. I could buy a flag, but it would never have flown over an aircraft carrier. No, it wouldn't do.